


Frayed Twilight

by Otters4Life



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, Grief/Mourning, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-02-08 09:39:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12861828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otters4Life/pseuds/Otters4Life
Summary: After one ending is another BeginningT here is some depiction of the undead, no worse than the ones in ragnarok.it deals with the consequences of the deaths in the movie.





	1. Full Tilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She is Sif of Asgard, let the battle be joined.

 

 

The fields surrounding the Vanir camp were filled with ships of all kinds.  The people of Vanaheim were not a space faring people--had not been since the Aesir-Vanir war millennia past--but they were still renowned galaxy wide for their food and crafts.

It was harvest season, and with the harvest came trade negotiations within the realms and beyond.

Sif was posted at these proceedings, a representative of Asgard's crown. There to guard against marauders and, at the end of it all, return home with the necessary tithes before departing again for another pointless task not suited to one of the king's best einherjar.

"I'm a glorified tax collector." She leaned against a crate of produce and tossed back a bottle of Vanir cider. 

Thor was somewhere in the Nine Realms, hunting down fire demons and here she was, alone, guarding herds of sheep and crates of apples without even Hogun to keep her company. 

They weren't even golden apples. Those were all in the royal gardens in Asgard in a plot of transplanted Vanir soil.

These few weeks were shaping up to be the worst of her life. She had no idea how true that was.

Sif dropped the bottle to the dirt with a loud thunk. 

Something was wrong with her brother.

Heimdall was known as the All-Seeing, and at his post at the Bifrost he stood ever observant to all threats to the realms. 

There was no distance his golden eyes couldn't reach, and few beings he could not see.

And, if he knew you, he could touch inside your mind and send you visions or send messages no matter the distance.

To his younger sister, this was felt as a constant warmth, a reassurance of his presence sitting in the back of her mind.

Right now it was the violent buzzing of a swarm of hornets.

 

She reached across their bond and said his name--Vanaheim disappeared from around her.

Heimdall was running through the streets of Asgard, she could see in this vision. His long hair was down with no helmet, no armor.

the only sign of his position in court, aside from his noble bearing, was that he wielded the sword of his office to cleave through the bodies of whatever creatures it seemed were chasing him.

"Stay away from Asgard, Sif. There's nothing you can do."

"Heimdall, what is going on?"

"Just stay away. Please. You cannot help. No one can."

The vision cut out.

 

"Heimdal!"

  
Asgard was in danger. Sif would not stand idly by.  
  
"Heimdal, answer me please!"  
  
From the moment she had attempted to contact home and found, not her eldest brother, but silence instead, she knew that something terrible had happened.  
  
  
One last time she tried his name. "Heimdall!"   
  
She immediately abandoned her mission.

Lacking access to the rainbow bridge, she had to barter away nearly everything she had to make her way off the planet.

It took her spare dagger, her cloak, her remaining bottles of Vanir Yakut and her last stash of Asgardian Mead to get passage on a Ciegrimite Frieghter.

Clad in only her armor, with only her sword and shield, Sif hunkered down in the mess and watched as the crew drank away her fee.

Her passage lasted as long as it took the alien snails to go through her last keg, which unfortunately dropped her right in the middle of Shi'ar space.

 

She managed to steal a small imperial fighter--interplanetary incidents be damned she was going to get home. She was going to join the fray.  
  
So here she was, fists clenched around the stick of a small fighter-racing accross the realms and barreling towards the distant, golden spires of her home.  
  
  
She saw it all.  
  
She saw lightning crash into the palace.   
  
She saw the cigar shaped vessel take off and hover above the smoldering capitol.  
  
She saw a massive form rise from below and rain fire and death down among the ruins. Surtur risen.

The great demon lifted a zweihander, a blade as long his torso, above his head and cast it down into their world's mantel. Everything was light, and debris and her home exploded into nothing.  
  
Asgard was gone.   
  
Ragnarok.

 

It didn't take Sif long to catch up to the larger craft.

She connected communications.  
  
"Unmarked Vessel, Identify yourself."  
  
"Well, I'm Korg, and this is Meik."  
  
"Are you in charge there?"  
  
"Well, I guess you could say that. The prince had the bridge, but he needed to relieve himself. Loki should be back soon if you need to--"  
  
She muted him. Loki was alive and in Asgard space. That lying bastard. This whole thing had his stink all over it.

Sif brought the ship around to the small docking station on the other ship. The alien on her screen appeared to be still talking, so she held up her hand.

"This is Lady Sif of Asgard, Last of the Einherjar! Prepare to be boarded and to taste my vengeance!"


	2. Fisticuffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sif joins the crew. Things are off to a bit of a rough start.

After docking Sif crossed the airlock in a few  long strides and peeled it open with the tips of her finger. She brought her sword down on the first person she saw.

It was a brown-skinned woman in dark armor. She was wedged in between two crates nursing a large brown jug and when Sif attacked she brought up her arm and caught the edge of the sword against her bracer.

 

She kicked out with her foot.

"Who the fuck are you?" the kick sent Sif skidding back across the cargo bay and dragged herself to her feet.  The woman chugged the rest of the jug, and as she dodged Sif's next charge, she brought the empty container down on Sif's face with a crash.

 The two continued on a short time, and soon the stranger had Sif down on her knees, with her arms twisted behind her.  "Yield, so I can go get another drink."

Sif struggled against her grip but the dagger held against her neck made it difficult. "I would sooner die than yield before one who helped to destroy Asgard."

The other woman took a breath to respond when a deep, resonating voice called from the doorway. "You shall both stand down and we can discuss this over mead without knives at our throats."

Sif looked up and nearly wept, the squeezing pain in her chest nearly caused her to burst.

It was Thor. He was alive, though definitely worse for wear. He wore broken armor and a tattered cape that both looked to be put together from a scrap pile.

 

He was filthy, and covered from boot to face in fading paint in various patterns.

And his face was covered in blood leaking from his right socket, dried and crusty. He had no eye.

But he was smiling. It was a weary smile. The kind of smile you see on someone who has gone days without food, or rest, and then finally is presented with a succulent roast pig, and a warm bed for the night.

Exhausted, worn, and yet very relieved.

"Thor! You're alive! I thought you had died!"

The woman released her and Sif rushed over, sword forgotten, and enfolded Thor in the tightest hug she could muster. She didn't release him until she heard him groan.

"I nearly did, but most of our people weren't so lucky. We have much to talk about."

"Is Heimdall--"

"He is still alive. He is in the mess, charting our course. He is the reason I knew to come down so quickly."

"And what of that traitorous brother of yours?"

"He is fine. And working alongside us. I know what you're thinking but he had nothing to do with this."

"Who did, then? Please tell me you gutted the bastard who slaughtered our people and destroyed our home."

"Yes. We beat Hela--the goddess who attacked Asgard--and managed to evacuate everyone who remained before Surtur struck down the realm."

"Good. I'm glad she paid for destroying our world." Thor frowned.

"Hela slaughtered our people, but she did not destroy our world."

"Then who did?"

Muspelheim was a restricted realm. For Surtur to get from there to Asgard would've required help.  Someone had to have let Surtur through the Bifrost. She said as much.

"Perhaps we should discuss this more later. With that drink. There's a lot--"

"Who did it, Thor?"

"It was me. I brought upon Ragnarock. It was the best option I had to save our people. Hela was too strong to--"

"You destroyed Asgard? Not Loki, not the Jotun--you destroyed our world. By choice."

"Yes, I had to." Sif took a deep breath before responding.

"Be that as it may, you need to leave this room before I hurt you very badly, my prince. We do not need to both become traitors."

Thor opened his mouth as if to fire back, but let it hang open several seconds before responding. The calm, measured, response he gave instead was so unusual it was almost enough to shock Sif from her anger.

"Alright. We will discuss this later. There is much you need to know." 

He turned and left, and Sif slumped down against the thick bulkhead. And screamed.

 

When she was all screamed out, the woman from before dropped down roughly next to Sif, crossing her legs underneath her.

She raised a fresh bottle to her lips and passed it over to her. 

Sif thanked her and took several gulps before returning it.

It tasted like ass.

"Don't make a habit of it. There's precious enough liquor on this boat as it is. I don't usually share what's mine."

They sat in silence for a while. The sorrow was too thick, if she had words Sif couldn't be sure that they'd be able to come out. She was certain that opening her mouth would only make her drown.

Still, she appreciated the quiet kindness of the woman beside her.

When she finally stood to leave her, Sif managed to find her words. 

"What is your name, friend?"

"You can call me Valkyrie."


	3. Sleep Like the Dead

The first thing you would see, if you could sail to Asgard upon the sea of space was a grand harbor, bustling with ships. It was necessary, for those without access to the Bifrost, to procure such a ship if they wished to travel the Nine Realms.

 

And travel they did, for what else would befit the center of a vast empire other than to be a hub of trade and commerce.

 

As the Statesman, and those aboard, traversed the stars towards the outer edges of Asgard Space--hoping to navigate the World Ash to new home -- it was the mast of such a ship that drifted through the remains of that harbor.

 

It drifted through the shattered remains of the rainbow bridge, fluttering like confetti. It went past the broken Bifrost portal itself. And it mowed through a cloud of broken corpses right into the face of one corpse in particular.

A corpse with flawless eye shadow. A corpse dressed in green and black and pale as death herself.

 

The boom smacked her right in the face. She opened her eyes, which glowed green with an eternal fire, and she vanished.

 

Elsewhere, Sif was dreaming.

 

Sif and the Warriors Three were a band feared throughout Yggdrasil. Whether they had the Prince at their side or not, they were constantly on daring adventures, fighting great beasts and rescuing innocents.  Sif and Thor would later go back over these conflicts, and wonder whether or not they were always the heroes they'd always thought themselves to be. Whether they were the tools of injustice as much as they were warriors of peace. But that has yet to occur. Right here, right now, they were heroes.  

They were celebrating in the grandest fashion. The mead flowed freely at their table and the food was plentiful and the four heroes had the attention and affection of every Aesir in the mead hall. There were men and women both practically hanging from the arms of Fandral and Sif, while Hogun quietly sipped his drink and Volstagg  enjoyed the best of what the kitchens had to offer.

The night outside was cold, but the hearth was warm and there was a warm glow around them.

"''Tis then that the Lion of Asgard knew what need be done," said Volstagg, "I leapt into action and drove back the overgrown lizard! Why, at the sight of me he nearly tucked his tail betwixt his legs in terror!" He laughed, brandishing his fork like a sword.  
  
"Why, if not for myself, with the assistance of my cohorts, the poor witches of Nornheim wouldst be nothing more than an over well steak! That beast couldn't get away fast enough!"

 

"I agree," said Fandral "That I haven't seen a dragon fly faster in all my days. Though I must say that perhaps the magic of the Queen of the Norns had as much to do with it as my sword or your fearsome combat prowess. And let us not forget who led us?" Fandral smiled. 

"Indeed! The Lady Sif is the mightiest of us all! Brilliant tactician and great fighter, both! Perhaps even mightier than the Crown Prince himself! Fafnir will think twice before he accosts anyone again!"

Sif laughed! "Definitely mightier than the prince himself. He has never beaten me on the training grounds. If not for his hammer, there would be no question who is the greatest on the battlefield."

Hogun looked up from his drink and muttered a simple "Aye."

"Then let us propose a toast!" Volstagg looked to his empty cup and turned around to the bartender. "Good sir! More mead for everyone!" When their cups were full, he stood, still facing the bar and the crowd surrounding their table. "A toast to the mightiest warrior in all of the Nine Realms! To Sif!" He raised his glass in a salute, and the crowd, and their friends replied in turn. Sif just laughed.

But when he turned to face her, Volstagg's face was a skull, and his girth was gone--leaving his clothes to hang loosely on his skeletal frame. "Well, Sif? Aren't you going to join in?"   
  
Now Fandral's face was similarly gruesome, rotting flesh dripping from his bleach white bones. "Yes, Sif! Don't be rude!" She turned to Hogun.  
  
  
Hogun, in his usual way, simply shrugged. He hated being the center of attention, and seemed to read the terror in her eyes as embarrassment. Not recognizing that his own gruesome, fleshless lips were the cause of her unease.  
  
She pushed her chair back and flew to her feet. The crowd around her was laughing, and dancing, all corpses with rictus grins on their features. And what she had believed to be the glow of a fireplace was the roaring of an all consuming fire, which sent the wooden beams of the mead hall crashing through the table.

She turned to run, and there was a figure in the flames. A woman, who laughed with Sif's laugh and spoke with Sif's voice. "Isn't this all grand fun?"

 

When Sif awakes she is our of the room before even wiping the sweat from her brow. It's crowded, packed with sleeping bodies huddled close on the floor amidst cargo strapped to the deck.

But the halls are empty, and she finds herself wandering them.

There is no larder she can lose herself in, and no warm milk to sooth herself to sleep like a babe. There's no training dummies to beat senseless, and no battle to lose herself in.

So she wanders fruitlessly until she passes one door, with light leaking out.

 

The Valkyrie's.

Thor was hesitant to take his own room, so was the Valkyrie and even Loki. But the people would not have them turn them down.

Most of the refugees were packed within the cargo holds, huddled in borrowed blankets. But they insisted, for the sake of honor, that the heroes of  Ragnarok--that the King and his court--be accommodated in the best possible way. He objected, he'd slept on the cold ground many times. But their palaces had crumbled, and this proud people hated to believe that they couldn't even provide for their own king. 

Heimdal advised that, for morale's sake, they comply. A certain amount of routine is good for their sense of dignity as a people.

So they compromised. Thor split the Captain's quarters with his brother and Heimdal--on the condition that the adjoining facilities be open for all. He gave the crew bunks to the children and the disabled. And the First Officer's quarters he allowed to be granted to the Last Valkyrie, under similar provisions as his. It was not enough, to Thor. His people were sleeping on the floor, in every available space. They had precious few provisions. So Heimdal charted their course towards the nearest trade center, in hopes they could obtain something to ease their condition. They had plenty of unnecessary goods crammed in the back of the hold which they could trade for cots and food.

Valkyrie's was the door she found herself facing. The one upon she now knocked.

 

Elsewhere, as the Lady Sif is being ushered inside and losing herself in bottom of a bottle of R'Malk'i rotgut something stirs in an unknown realm.

The flutter of multitudes of wings fills the air.

While a woman, to some a hired killer, receives word of a bounty very large and very tempting.  A bounty the head of a wicked king, worth more gold than she ever thought possible. One that could secure a good life for herself, and her lover, for a good many years. This was to good to pass up.

Heven help that poor soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that this is an AU. i have not seen Infinity War, nor do i care about Thanos.
> 
> I'm just like...indifferent to his whole deal. We're going from there.


End file.
